The Neighbor from Next Door
The morning unfolded like any other. After breakfast with Mom, the dishes were my job, as always. I showered, then finished getting ready for work in my room.
My phone chimed — a text. Figuring it was Aunt Jisu or Aunt Yerin this early in the morning, I picked it up.
It was Neighbor Ju-yeong, who lived in the next building over.
I'd first met her two months ago, at the recycling station. She'd been struggling under an enormous load of recyclables, and I'd given her a hand. To thank me, she'd offered to treat me to a cup of tea at her place — and these days, we were the sort of people who ended up chatting at her apartment more days than not.
She'd just turned thirty. She had a six-year-old in kindergarten. The moment her husband and child were out the door, she would message me without fail. Come over and talk, she'd say. And I would go. Gladly.
Why? Because she was pretty. Pretty for a married woman. No — she was stunning. A face you could easily believe belonged to someone in her early twenties. She was married, so a housewife she certainly was, but she looked so young, and there was something about her presence that felt... distinctly sexual. That was the vibe, anyway.
That was the beauty of working from home — I could rearrange my hours whenever I wanted. I threw on some clothes and tore over to the next building as fast as my legs would carry me.
I rang the bell. The front door opened almost immediately, and pretty Ju-yeong welcomed me with a bright, open smile.
"Oh my. You're here, Hyeonsu?"
"Yes. Did the kid go off to kindergarten?"
"She did. Husband's gone to work, too. Come on in."
"Sure."
Tea was already waiting on the coffee table, and beside it a spread of snacks that looked genuinely good.
"The place looks tidy today. What got into you, actually cleaning?"
"Hehehe. I know, right? I even cleaned today, can you believe it."
We were close enough by now to toss jokes like that back and forth. I went to the sofa and sat down. Ju-yeong settled in right beside me, pressed close. As she sat, her skirt fluttered, leaving her thighs fully exposed, but she didn't seem to mind in the slightest. My eyes caught on the smooth line of her calves.
"Hyeonsu. You know that thing we talked about? I tried it yesterday."
We still spoke formally with each other. It wasn't particularly awkward — if anything, it felt more natural this way, at least for now.
"Did you really? You used that lube?"
"I did. My husband liked it a lot, actually. Thanks to you, last night was pretty satisfying."
And we traded sticky, filthy talk like that without the slightest hesitation. What had started as conversations about her husband had grown steadily bolder, and by now it had slid, perfectly naturally, into the kind of no-holds-barred dirty talk you'd expect between housewives.
"Been a while since you were satisfied, then? It's been rough going for a while."
"It has. My husband's... it doesn't stay up very well, so things were a bit like that — but yesterday I rubbed the gel on him nice and slow, and he got rock-hard from the start." She giggled.
I'd been the one to suggest she try lube, after she'd told me sex with her husband wasn't doing it for her. Apparently it had worked. Last night, it seemed, had been a good one.
"You really don't miss a thing, do you? Anyway — thank you."
She smiled and took a sip of her tea. We swapped the worries of our sex lives without a shred of restraint. Ju-yeong was under the impression that I had a lot of experience with women. In truth, Aunt Jisu had been my first, and the only other one was a female friend I'd gotten drunk with one night, a long time ago.
Then again, you don't need a revolving door of partners to know what you're doing. With Aunt Jisu alone, if I had to put a number on it, we'd had sex a few hundred times. So I had a fair amount of confidence in that department, and a fair amount of know-how to go with it. I wasn't some clumsy amateur. In my own opinion, anyway.
"Hyeonsu, does yours ever go soft in the middle of it?"
"Mine?"
I pointed at the zipper of my pants. She nodded.
"Mm. That."
"Haha. It never dies. Even after two or three rounds, it's still going strong. I'm still young, you know."
"Really? Oh my god. That's insane." She burst out laughing.
"Hah — not like I can actually show you."
I tipped my head with a teasing look. She narrowed her eyes, leaned in, and whispered against my ear.
"Then just show me once."
A joke at that level was nothing. We'd done it plenty of times. I volleyed it right back, easy as anything.
"If I show you this, that makes us a pair of cheaters. You sure you're okay with that? Once you see it, you won't be able to hold back."
"Hehehe. Really? You're insane! Completely insane~"
She gave my arm a playful swat, laughing with a shy little curl to it.
"Are you really going to show me?"
She gazed off into the middle distance, pretending to weigh it. That, too, was a game that belonged to the two of us. We both knew it, and we were enjoying it in just the right measure.
"Would you be alright with it, though? I'm incredible with my mouth."
"Wow. Are you? I've been told my cum tastes amazing, too. Want to try some?"
"Alright. Take it out, then."
I undid the button on my pants. That much was the usual game. Then I drew the zipper halfway down. That — that was as far as the game had ever gone.
This was where we were supposed to stop. This was where she was supposed to burst out laughing and tell me to knock it off... but she just sat there, staring at my pants.
I lifted my head and looked at her. She wore a smile I couldn't quite read, and she nodded. Open it. Show me.
Do I actually open it? Is this still a joke? Today, somehow, the game felt like it had edged a little further past the line than it ever had before.
The zipper rasped as I pulled it back up. I fastened the button again.
"Hahaha. You should count yourself lucky. I'm overflowing with energy today, so we'll leave it at that."
"Aww. That's too bad. I really wanted to see it."
"Did you? You're not joking?"
"No. I genuinely did want to see it. Once."
The seriousness on her face made something catch in me. A pair of thoughts collided in my head — Should I show her? and, right on its heels, I want to. Even so, the judgment that this wasn't the thing to do went flickering through my mind.
"Haha. I really can't win with you. I can't keep up."
There had been plenty of games like this between us. There'd been a time I'd come within a hair of grabbing her chest, and jokes naughtier than the one we'd just played. But her face today? It was serious. Her eyes had gone narrow, as if she'd made up her mind. Her cheeks were flushed, and even the way she spoke had slowed.
"Hyeonsu. Then... should I go first?"
I couldn't make sense of what she meant.
"Sorry?"
Instead of answering, Ju-yeong took the hem of her skirt and slowly drew it upward. The long fabric rose by degrees, revealing the smooth line of her calves, her knees, and then the pale white of her thighs.
"What do you think? Pretty nice for a married woman's legs, don't you think?"
Not a single blemish. Smooth, pale legs that looked as though they had never seen the sun — white and luminous as they came into view.
"...They're... pretty."
I couldn't look away. And why did I keep swallowing? Ju-yeong watched my face, and the corner of her mouth lifted.
"Want to touch?"
"W-what? M... me?"
"Of course."
She looked straight into my eyes. I looked into hers. There had never been a single moment of physical contact between us. Not once. The instant our eyes met, she took my hand and slowly drew it onto her thigh. I followed where she led, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and then the sensation arrived all at once against my palm — skin, cool and impossibly smooth.
"How does it feel?"
"It's... soft."
We kept looking at each other. She pressed my palm flat against her thigh, took hold of my wrist, and began to move it, slowly. My palm slid where she guided it, gliding over the surface of her thigh. She rubbed it along the outside, then drew it in toward the inner thigh — and then my palm slipped beneath the skirt she hadn't fully lifted. The farther in my hand traveled, the hotter and damper the sensation became.
Holding her gaze, my palm explored the inside of her thigh. And when it moved somewhere deeper still, a coarseness caught at my fingertips.
"H-hang on..."
"A little more..."
She gripped my wrist and pulled it inward, hard. Pubic hair, unmistakable against my fingertips. That hot, scratchy texture.
"Hah. Th-this is—"
I yanked my hand back in a rush. Ju-yeong laughed, bright and open, and leaned in to whisper against my ear.
"I'm not wearing any panties today."
She watched my face go red and laughed as if she found it delightful. Apparently this, too, had been another one of her jokes.
"Hehehe. Did today's joke go a little too far?"
"Yes. I... I mean... that's..."
My heart was hammering so hard it felt like my mouth had sealed shut. The words wouldn't come out right.
"But it was a good joke for you, wasn't it, Hyeonsu?"
"Hah. S-seriously. What were you going to do if I actually got turned on and jumped you?"
"Hehehe. Then I'd be happy. If you jumped me, I'd just let you."
She was insane. My heart would not calm down. The pubic hair of a woman who wasn't Aunt Jisu — who wasn't that friend from years ago. A married woman. A woman with a kid and a husband. The sensation at my fingertips was still vivid, burned there.
"Would you like more tea, Hyeonsu?"
She tugged her skirt back down, rose from the sofa, and headed for the kitchen. Now that I looked, the shape of her ass showed through the fluttering skirt in shameless detail. With every step, one cheek then the other stood out in sharp relief, and I couldn't tear my eyes away.
She filled the kettle and set it back on the stove.
"I wanted to see yours, you know. For real."
"...Sorry?"
She turned to look at me, a smile on her lips. Then she let something loaded hang in the air.